


Because adults are working hard to make sure you never have to worry.

by HumptyDumpty



Category: Hatoful Kareshi | Hatoful Boyfriend
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-07
Updated: 2013-01-07
Packaged: 2017-11-24 02:28:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/629285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HumptyDumpty/pseuds/HumptyDumpty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Maybe… if I… if I please you, you’ll let me see him, right? You’ll let me see Nageki, right?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because adults are working hard to make sure you never have to worry.

**Author's Note:**

> If you make it through the whole story without laughing at my incompetence, may Lord Puddi bless you. I get this crackship and scene played over and over in my mind for no apparent reason, and yet wording it isn't one fourth as good as seeing it in action.

Hitori wasn’t the kind of person to get drunk easily. To be honest, he had always avoided drinking or drinking too much in the rare occasions he did (and always wine, no more) because he would have never been able to forgive himself if, despite the weight of his responsibilities, he of all people had lost control. 

As though he had feared this moment his whole life.

Some things just happen, and that’s all there is to them. But some others are destiny, bound by fate, and there is no escaping their karma. Like Nageki’s illness. Even if the young boy had survived his parents, the terrorist attack at the orphanage and albeit Hitori had always sheltered him like a clam protects its pearl, still a genetic condition was trying to crush everything. Cruelly, mercilessly. Because either there were no promises to be made or promises felt so terribly lonely- why? Why did it have to be too much to ask? For his last brother and he to forever be by each other's side. Struggling to keep his balance, this is what the scarved noirette was muttering to himself while making his way to the entrance of the Medical Center. It was hard to remember how he had gotten there. Stinging pain prickled every inch of his brains with its thorns, grief clouded the clear way with its fogs.  
  
It was late night and, oddly enough, nobody was around. No security. He would’ve even doubted that Isa Souma could be there at such an awful hour if not for the fact that his devotion to work was one of the few certainties of the world as Hitori knew it. Well, sounds indeed seemed to come from behind the door of the office; Hitori knocked in a last spark of politeness, more out of habit than of actual care. Doors to divide people shouldn't have existed in the first place anyway. Rustling of papers and light footsteps echoed in the empty corridor as it cracked open. Looking at him with the blankest eyes, Isa Souma appeared, half of his body covered in shadow. “Uzune?” He asked plainly, without the slightest hint of emotion. “Why are you here?”  
  
Oh, but Hitori could feel them. The daggers Isa was glaring from the darkest depths of his vacant stare. They made him cringe. Yes, they definitely made him cringe. Being physically stronger, Hitori pushed the door and forced himself inside the room, putting his hands on the Doctor’s shoulders. “I need to see Nageki!” He moaned, “Please-!”

“Fujishiro can’t—” Isa had already begun to say, raising a brow and attempting to back off. The noirette immediately stopped him. Hitori gasped for air, as if about to utter something, anything, then pressed his lips agaist the Doctor’s. His tongue roughly rummaged into the other’s for a sign of mutual willingness, bringing a horrible taste of alcohol. A disgusted Isa shoved him off with sudden vigour. “Let go of me!” He spit, drying some saliva on his lips with the perfectly white sleeve. But Hitori, who hadn’t got the slightest intention of giving up, for he couldn’t possibly give up, pushed him against the desk. 

_This isn’t me._ The thought flashed in the noirette’s mind as medical records fell open to the ground, forcing several patients to observe the scene taking place over them. “Maybe… if I… if I please you, you’ll let me see him, right? You’ll let me see Nageki, right?” Hitori begged, his left hand unzipping Doctor Souma’s trousers while shaking uncontrollably. 

With Hitori’s weight crushing him, there was nothing to be done to free himself. Isa mentally sighed; this was merely a slight mishap on the way to granting Ryuuji’s wish. As much as it bothered him, he would bear it for the sake of Fujishiro’s essentiality. After all, no matter how far Uzune would go, the following morning all his efforts were going to prove useless.

Bending his head down to reach Isa’s lenght, tears silently started to flow on the scarved male’s cheeks. Bidding farewell to the pure, sincere hope and longing they had once been shed for.


End file.
